The old man behind me in the checkout line demands to know where the envelopes are.
“Aisle two, sir.”
“No,” he barks. “I checked there. I looked for ten minutes. Nothing.”
“I can have someone go look.”
“Fine. But they won’t find any envelopes.”
The cashier dispatches someone to go look. A minute later that someone returns with envelopes.
The old man shrugs. In a calm voice he says, “Miracles happen.”